


Back in the Summer

by justanotherStonyfan



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Anal Fingering, Bucky Barnes Has Issues, Come Swallowing, Exhibitionism, Face-Fucking, M/M, Making Out, POV Second Person, Praise Kink, Rimming, Spanking, Touch Phobic, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-17
Updated: 2016-05-17
Packaged: 2018-06-09 00:59:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6882649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justanotherStonyfan/pseuds/justanotherStonyfan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Your issues mean you can't participate for the most part, however much you'd like to one day.</i> </p><p>  <i>Still, even though you're not bringing much to the actual party, they're both happy for you to watch.</i></p><p>Steve and Sam sixty-nine while Bucky watches. 2nd Person POV.</p><p>For Bethan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Back in the Summer

It stands to reason that they let you watch – you figure it's reasonable, anyhow. Sam was vocal enough about autonomy and consent, and it took two awkward conversations between all of you to get this far but, there's no way you can join in.

The first of these akward converstions is to convince them you remember enough about being human to know what autonomy and consent are – and basically, even though you remember everything, all it really took was the admission that you remember fucking little Stevie into your worn out mattress, but now you pretty much can't get it up more than once every few days.

(Sam says this is normal – it'll either change or it won't, and you're loved either way.)

Which was pretty much the second conversation – that Steve has room in his heart for two, and so does Sam, and that you're okay with being the third person who can love two people in a polyamorous relationship.

You can. They're both hot as fuck, loyal as fuck, and you don't actually admit to what you'd do for them because they'd probably question your self-proclaimed desire to be as little as possible like the Winter Soldier at all costs.

There are other conversations – how you can still appreciate even if you can't participate, how you don't enjoy first-hand the things you used to enjoy. 

Steve's consented to being tied to a chair so you can make out. It's not like he couldn't break the arms if he wanted to, but it's more to make him remember to keep his hands down. You like to kiss slow and sweet and wet, not hard and rough – lips and tongue, not teeth, and your hands in his hair, his hands clenched on wood. Sam won't take a blowjob from you yet, and you want to give Sam one first, because Steve won't until Sam will. Except you want to give Steve one first.

Small, annoying, incredibly relieving things like that. 

No promises, no pushing, no pressure.

Which is how you end up here. 

You watched a great deal pass between them, once you were given the opportunity. You watch them neck, you watch them pet (the way Sam throws his head back and gasps, the way Steve buries his face against Sam's neck). Watching Sam get head is amazing; he doesn't hold back and he hits Steve's praise kink every time. Watching Steve get rimmed is more of an experience but only because sex is the only time he'll beg, and he doesn't hold back.

This, this is something else.

Sam's on top because Steve is stronger, and they took a while to get set up. It's the first time they've both been so vulnerable – when they fuck, it's not like this. When they suck each other off, stroke each other off, it's not like this.

Steve's head and shoulders are propped up on his pillow, legs splayed, eyes closed, Sam's beautiful cock stuffed halfway down his throat, and Sam's head is all the way down at Steve's cock, too. Right now, he's busy suckling softly at the head, and Steve moans around Sam's length like it's all he's ever wanted. 

You never say much at times like these – you prefer watching. It makes you silent, makes you quiet your breathing and slow you heart rate until all that exists is the two men in front of you. 

Sam supports his upper body on his forearms, on either side of Steve's splayed thighs, and he lowers his head slowly, takes all of Steve and then lets go to draw a deep breath, head back, eyes closed.

“ _Oh,_ baby,” he says softly, reverently almost, and you find yourself nodding – Sam's right, you and he both know it.

Steve swallows around him, hums soft and low and shakes his head just a little, and the smile on Sam's face when you flick your gaze to it to see is broad and lax.

“Get-” Sam says, and he pulls at Steve's thigh with one hand before sucking him down again. 

Steve gets the message, plants the foot of that leg against the mattress, hitches his leg up and lets it lean outward so he brackets Sam's shoulder and exposes himself a little more. Sam takes the opportunity to suck at the base of Steve's cock, drawing one testicle into his mouth.

Steve's leg twitches but the rise and fall of his chest is still regular – still in time with the languid thrusts of Sam's pelvis. It's the crack of something loud that startles you into looking back up at Steve's head even as Sam's body bows upward for a moment – Steve's busy smoothing one hand over Sam's ass while the other's hooked around his hip and, a few seconds later, his huge paw pulls back and lands hard, the same sound again. 

Sam's got an ass on him, a real sweet looking thing, and you draw your lower lip into your mouth and run your teeth over it to ground yourself. You know arousal well, and you enjoy it even if you can't get hard enough to join in. 

Sam groans around his mouthful when the third one lands against his ass. Steve huffs through his nose as Sam sucks down his mouthful and then lets it slip past his lips, and they're old hat at this, you can see that much. Sam's still reassuring, stroking Steve's thigh up to his knee and back. You like the trust – takes a lot for a man to slap a guy when that guy's got your balls in his mouth.

Steve moves, moves his head and gives Sam's cock a quick couple of jerks with his hand before he rolls his head on the pillow, looks down towards Sam.

“S'good,” he says, out of breath. “S'good, Sam,” and then he grabs at Sam's ass with both hands and spreads Sam's cheeks.“C'm'ere.” 

Sam's hips flex down and Steve still has to lift his head off the pillow to get his mouth on him, but Sam's hand comes down a fist on the bedclothes as soon as he does, fingers twisting in the sheets a moment later. He breathes in hard through his nose, and Steve's fingers tighten on Sam's ass as he does. Steve moans against Sam's skin, and you can hear the sounds of his lips and his tongue kissing and lapping at him.

“ _Fuck_ yeah, baby, get it deep,” Sam says, and you like that – you like the way he sounds when he asks for what he's getting. 

One of Steve's hands lets go, starts jacking Sam nice and slow, and it'll be a few minutes before his neck gets sore so you watch Sam instead.

Sam screws up his face and hisses through his teeth, tilts his head back and bares the gorgeous length of his throat. You're not above wanting to sink your teeth in, but you breathe soft, breathe quiet, and listen to the way Sam blows his breath out through pursed lips. 

Steve's head shakes in your periphery, Sam's hips roll down, and the next time Steve shakes his head, he hums too. Sam drops his head, groans open-mouthed against Steve's thigh, and he drags his hand across the bedclothes before Steve drops his head to the pillow, licks his lips. 

“Hey?” he says, and Sam laughs.

“Sorry, man,” he chuckles, lifting his head up as though it's a great effort to do so, fingers uncurling from the bedclothes, “s'your own fault you're so good.”

“What, you can't beat him at his own game?” you say, and they both look at you. 

It's a change for sure – you almost never have both their attention focused on you at once. You don't usually speak at all, and you're not sure why you did this time, but Steve scrapes his teeth over Sam's ass and raises his eyebrows after a second, and Sam glances back although he can't really see him from this angle, as though they're working something out between themselves.

“You wanna see that?” Sam asks, and you think about it.

You look between their faces, take a look at the wet tip of Steve's cock right under Sam's mouth and shrug one shoulder. They both know you're not as nonchalant as you're pretending to be, but it's Steve who smiles. 

“ _I_ wanna see it,” he says. “You're leavin' me cold here, you think you can double do _-own, oh,_ okay.”

Sam's got a pretty mouth, and the way he sucks at the head of Steve's cock, just under the head the way Steve likes, is damned pretty too. 

You laugh – you laugh nice and slow and Steve arches his back under Sam and closes his eyes as his head tips back.

“Mmmh,” he says, smiling, enjoys it for a second, and then he pulls Sam's cock back and slides it into his mouth.

“Mmm-hmm,” Sam answers, and Steve's toes flex, his hands up on Sam's hips.

You watch the muscles in Steve's throat working, the bob of his Adam's apple, and you watch the shifting in Sam's torso as he starts to bob his head. 

One of Steve's hand slips back, and it's only when he extends his thumb that you see what he plans to do. Sam's ass will still be spit-slick from where Steve's had his mouth on him, and Steve starts to rub the pad of his thumb through it, taking it easily when Sam's hips thrust twice. 

Sam shifts his hand – ups the stakes – and you wonder what he's doing until fingers that you've seen for yourself are skilful dip down and curl, and Steve makes the first sound that isn't in control.

It's a high-pitched noise, almost surprise, but it ends in the kind of deep-throated groan that has Sam's toes curling too – his feet are tucked up under Steve's arms and the tiny, almost non-existent twitch Steve gives belies that he's still just that little bit ticklish. 

You chuckle, and Steve's eyes flutter open, his gaze cuts over to you and it steals your breath away. The way he looks with another man's dick in his mouth while he's looking at _you_ is something you haven't seen enough to know the force of the way it impacts you. If you could get hard, and you weren't up until now, that'd do it.

Sam's fingers are still at work and they're either in Steve or messing with his perineum from the way his lashes flutter down a moment later. He pulls off Sam's dick and tilts his head back, stretching into the space he's got without letting up with his thumb – you can't even figure why it's as hot as it is but maybe, just maybe, you're imagining the same for yourself. Maybe someday you'll be able to but you're happy to watch the way Steve does it for now. 

“Sam,” Steve says, low and dark and rough the way you remember, and Sam pulls off to answer.

“You first?” he says, and he's still moving his hand.

“God, you're-” Steve gasps and, yeah, he likes getting his ass played with.

You like watching it, too, maybe you can convince Sam to hold him down one day and get your own fingers back inside there again. You remember the tight heat of it, and you miss it with a distant ache, but Steve's back bows up again and...yeah, Sam's fingers have to be doing something clever.

“Oh,” Steve says, “fuck, sorry.”

“S'okay, baby,” Sam tells him, swallowing him down again. 

Steve grabs at Sam's hips, at his thighs, at anywhere just to have something to grab, and he rolls his shoulders, turns his head away, and then he turns it back and looks straight at you.

“Damn, you like to win, huh?” he says on a breath, directed at Sam despite the intensity of the gaze directed at you, but his voice shakes and he slaps his hand against Sam's ass again just to save face.

You can feel yourself smiling, watching Steve's stomach for the tightening of muscle and you watch it concave as he keeps his hips down.

Sam bobs his head a little faster, hums softly and turns up the volume little by little, and Steve's legs twitch up.

“Oh, that's good, Sam, that's so _good_.”

It ends on a whine and Steve's teeth are clenched, the tendons in his throat standing out. You know that look – it's close but it's not enough. Maybe Sam's fingers aren't inside after all.

Sam pulls off again, pushes away from Steve, and Steve's eyes open – he blinks owlishly and looks down as Sam bends his body to look back at him.

“Lube?” Sam says.

Steve moves like he's been burned, yanking the drawer open on the nightstand that it almost falls right out. He fumbles and scrabbles for a second or five and then he's throwing lube and tissues down the end of the bed for Sam. 

“Thank you, baby,” Sam says, like he does when Steve passes the salt.

Steve props himself up on his elbows to watch as best he can while Sam coats his fingers and sets the bottle aside, and then Steve gives you this little smile, bottom lip caught between his teeth, Sam's ass maybe six inches from his face, and you know what Sam's gonna say before he says it because it's something you hear him say it a lot.

“Relax, baby.”

Steve sighs through his nose and lies back down, runs a hand over his face and rolls his head towards you, waiting but impatient. 

Sam taps the inside of his leg, and says “come on,” and Steve snorts.

“I'm not a horse, Sam,” but he moves his legs, spreads them enough that you feel a little warmer.

Steve doesn't look down at Sam for the next part – he looks at you, and you watch the way his brow furrows, the way his mouth opens, the way his eyes roll and his body twists and Sam hums slow and soft and presses his lips to the head of Steve's cock before sliding the whole length into his mouth.

Steve makes a noise as his eyes flutter closed again, mouth open, spreads his legs further and gives Sam room to move, and he's not looking at you now but you can't take your eyes off his face.

“Yeah,” he breathes, desperate, “yeah, Sam, yes, oh-”

Steve grips at the bedclothes and writhes on Sam's fingers – you assume it's two because you've seen Steve take them before – and Sam just bobs his head over Steve's cock as fast as he can. Steve never lasts long with too much stimulation and you're debating what to do when Sam does something that makes Steve's entire body ripple. 

“Oh, he found it, huh?” you ask, and Steve looks at you when you stand up, keeps his eyes on you when Sam holds his hips down with one hand. 

It's not too much effort to walk to him, to kneel down next to him – not the way it takes him every remaining bit of willpower to keep his hands to himself. You see him lift one, and put it back, see him tug against the sheets like he still wants to let go. 

“Come here,” you tell him, and you kneel down (that's not easy, that's something your whole body still doesn't want you doing, but it's a step up from the way your mind used to scream at you before) and his eyes go wide in shock and understanding, and you kiss him when you card flesh fingers through his hair because you've seen that he remembers not to touch - and love like that should be rewarded.

It doesn't take him long – it's harder to kiss him when he's moving but you can keep up with the way he tries to keep still as he twists, the way his mouth goes slack every couple of seconds, the way he's trying hard to breathe.

You pull back to look at him, stroke his face and he looks so desperate, looks halfway to pained, and you smile at him.

When you look down, Sam's got at least three fingers inside of him and, even as you watch, the movement of Sam's hand changes from gentle, encouraging, to rubbing harder.

Steve makes a strangled noise and you stare down at him as his body jerks, muscles tense and he's so tense his spine bows up, so tense he's heavy in your hands.

“God, you're beautiful,” you tell him.

“Uhn,” he answers, “Bu-Bucky-” 

And you kiss him again when he cranes his neck, as the tone of his voice rises.

Steve gasps though his nose when you kiss and then moans pitifully into your mouth, has to pull away and turn his head to loose a cry that's loud in your ears as his whole face screws up and his body convulses. It ain't pain but you stroke his hair anyway, you tell him he's good, so good, and Sam hums quietly, does a little more for a little longer. He takes it when Steve's hips snap up and stutter, belying just how hard he's working to keep them down, and he eases Steve down from it with his fingers and his mouth just the way Steve likes. 

He pulls off, snags a tissue off the bedclothes and passes it in front of his mouth, and he pulls a face but licks his lips anyway.

Steve just lies still with his eyes closed for a minute, breathing hard until they open, and you smooth the hair back of his sweaty forehead with your cool metal fingers this time.

“There you go,” you say, and Sam swings his leg up so he can get off Steve, moving around on the bed.

“No, hey,” Steve says blearily, waving a hand at him, “gimme a minute, you can fuck my throat.”

Sam looks interested (who wouldn't?) but he sits back a minute, takes in the way Steve's lying sweaty and sated on the bedclothes and smiles right back when you grin. 

“When you're done,” you tell Sam, “you get his wrists and I'll neck with him a little, that okay with you?”

“Sure thing, man, if you want me all up in your mouth,” Sam answers.

You think about the warmth that puts in your skin, the way your stomach clenches even if nothing else does, and you nod slowly.

“Yeah, I'm thinkin' I'd like that.”

Steve groans softly, and he's looking up at you when you look down.

“Yeah?” you ask, although you already know you turn him on.

“Yeah,” he says, almost before it's outta your mouth, and then, “Sam?”

Sam smiles at him, gets himself onto his knees and leans over Steve to kiss him while your hand's still in Steve's hair.

“How you want me?” Sam asks, and Steve laughs, not quite hysterical.

“Any way I can have you,” he says, and yanks Sam back down for another kiss.

You don't know if Steve's kissing Sam because he knows you can't bring your own body to give him another kiss so soon or not, but you're grateful to them both either way.

“You're so good together,” you tell them, and they both break away at the same time.

“We all are,” Steve says, and Sam nods too.

It's nice to be included, nicer still to hear your place in this thing confirmed, but a Serious Talk could jeopardize Sam's turn, so you tilt your head towards him.

“Wanna get to it?” you ask, and you move back, get back into the chair as Sam swings his leg back over Steve.

Sam's knees don't bracket Steve's torso this time – they bracket his head instead, so that Sam faces Steve's feet, and the long, straight line of Steve's throat is perfect when Sam grips himself tight in one fist, his weight balanced on the other hand. 

“Okay?” he says, and Steve opens his mouth, cranes his neck, so Sam can ease his cock into his throat. “Breathe.”

Steve does, you can hear him, and you didn't know he could get Sam's whole length down him but you realize when you see it maybe three seconds later.

Sam groans, plants his other hand back on the bed and tips his head back again, opens his mouth. He drops his head down to look at Steve.

“You good?” he says, and Steve 's mouth is open around Sam's dick, but he manages to make a long, happy-sounding noise that Sam takes for the green light it is.

He rolls his hips once, testing, eases his hips forward twice and Steve, the dork, gives him a thumbs up and draws a deep breath in through his nose (you know that, when the idiot's actually conscious, he can hold his breath for seven minutes) as he swallows. You watch Steve's throat work around Sam's dick and wonder just how good that feels – it's something you never got to do with him, but you put it on your mental list of things to work up to.

“Feel so good,” Sam says, and then he does exactly what Steve told him to do.

Part of you is fascinated by it – Sam's a powerful guy, you know that firsthand at least, as the movement of his hips when he's not holding back is mesmerizing. He goes fast and hard and lets loose with the noises you like, grunting more than anything but it's hot as fuck.

Sam bites his lip and hangs his head to watch his cock moving in and out of Steve's mouth like it's meant to be there and nowhere else, and the other part of you is amazed that Steve can take that kind of power to his face.

You knew, of course you knew, you've seen him take (and, a traitorous part of you reminds you, you have inflicted) worse, but he just lies there and takes it from Sam, muscles working in his throat as his hands come up to grab at Sam's waist.

Sam slows just a moment or two, checking Steve isn't trying to hold him back, and then he keeps right on going, praising Steve the whole time. (Steve hates saying anything about the fact that he's got a praise kink a mile wide, and you're glad Steve and you both have someone who can give him what he needs.)

“Baby, fuck, so good, so _good_ for me,” and Steve knows Sam better than Bucky does like this, he's heard Sam speaking before.

He knows the change in tone, the tightness in the muscles his hands are pressed against and so you know it's calculated when Sam's breaths get harder, when the words get farther apart.

“Steve...uhn, babe- baby, you-”

So you're not concerned when Steve starts making noise – when he lets the moan he give get fractured into harsh, wide pieces by the dick in his throat, when he sounds like he's choking. (You still know what he sounds like when he's really choking.)

This, this is all for Sam and it's working.

“Steve, _Steve!_ ” 

Steve swallows around Sam once, twice, and then Sam's not-quite-screaming through his teeth as he drives home once, twice, a third time with the muscles in his gorgeous thighs shaking.

Steve is different to Sam – Steve won't spit unless you tell him to because he loves what he gets – so he swallows hard, the skin over his chest red, his eyelashes a little damp and his cock still at least semi-interested, while Sam moans above him.

It only takes a few more seconds before Sam's pushing himself back and onto his knees, hand on Steve's chest to stay his efforts.

“Stop, baby, stop,” he gasps, moving away to lean back against the headboard and cuts his gaze to you. “Y'okay?”

You laugh, and it's not bitter or dark, it's just real. 

“Are you kidding?” you ask, and Sam shrugs.

“I'm askin' for a reason,” he says, chest heaving, and you nod because that's part of the deal.

Consent, check in, confirm.

“ _Yeah_ , I'm okay,” you tell him, your grin wide, and you look at Steve. “Gonna get his wrists?”

Steve makes an interested, happy little noise, and Sam smiles, shakes his head as he unfolds himself, as he wriggles around on the bed and gets Steve's head and shoulders in his lap.

“Sure,” he says, “why not?” 

Steve lifts his arms for Sam to hold his wrists, and that's a picture in itself, watching Steve give himself up that way. Sam's fingers are tight when you stand, when you walk over to them, but it's then that you remember they're both naked and you are very much not.

You also realize that, like this, you'll either be by the bed or on it, and you're not sure how to do either practically.

You look them both up and down, watch Steve's cock twitch and look back at his face as he raises one completely ridiculous and totally unapologetic eyebrow.

Sam snickers.

“So what'cha think about me gettin' on you?” you say, with a confidence you don't feel, and that eyebrow goes right back down again.

“Over my chest?” Steve asks, glancing at Sam for confirmation that they've both heard what you just said. 

You used to wince internally when they couldn't believe their luck like this, but they taught you not to be ashamed of the things taken from you, taught you love doesn't care about shit like that.

“Why not?” you ask, and you get one knee on the mattress, swing the other over his torso.

You settle yourself, in your jeans and your tee, over his ribcage – he can take you – and you settle both hands on his chest because you can. Your ass is well away from his half-interested cock so you're doing just fine, and he breathes nice and slow beneath you. His ribcage expands between your legs and he's warm, so warm, your body misses his so much.

“You just let us know, baby, okay?” Sam says, and he calls you baby with the same warm affection he uses when he says it to Steve. 

Steve's heart is racing but Sam, Sam's hands are occupied with holding Steve's wrists, so you're safe when you lean forward and kiss him, all your weight on Steve's chest.

Sam nips with his teeth and steals your breath when you kiss, makes you feel light-headed with the scratch of his facial hair and lets you lead every time.

Steve makes a punched-out kinda sound and you break the kiss to grin down at him. He looks shocked and turned on and still kind of disbelieving, so you give Sam another kiss to tide him over and shake your head as you rearrange, as you bend your body double to get close to Steve.

“I have a list,” you tell him, “of things I want to do to you.” You glance up. “Both of you.”

You look down in time to watch Steve glance at your lips before he finds your gaze with his own.

Everybody's breathing quiet now – this is going to be the most you've said at once and you want to make it count.

“We're not done,” you say, bolder by the second, “and I still want to see you gettin' what I can't have yet.”

“Bucky,” Steve says, his voice nothing short of wrecked, but you shake your head.

“Yet,” you tell him. “But I have a list and some day...”

You smile.

“Some day, Stevie, can't tell you when but some day, I'm gonna give you everything Sam gives you, take anything you'd give Sam.”

Steve's mouth falls open and you know he's thinking of all the things they've let you see.

“Say the word, baby,” Sam tells you, and you nod, tilt your head.

“It'll be a while,” you say, and Steve sounds desperate.

“We'll be here,” he says.

“I know,” you tell him, because you do. “But some day, sweetheart.” 

Steve's breath hitches at the name you haven't called him for far, far too long, and you feel like pushing your boundaries, you feel like giving them something. 

You brush your lips against his ear because you can, hands pressed to his body where his heart is racing. 

“Some day I'm gonna start real slow,” you say, “take my time with both of you, get what I want, give you what you need.”

Steve cuts off the moan he makes so you lick at the shell of his ear. 

“Someday,” you tell him, and even though your boldness is running out, you say it anyway because it's true, you _long_ for it, “we're both gonna have you, Stevie, both of us together, drive you crazy.”

“Please,” Steve says, high and desperate and you kiss him first the way he does it for you – slow and sweet and soft.

He does taste of Sam, just like Sam still tastes of Steve, and their hands are down, away, so you're okay, you're fine.

It might take months, it might take years, but they brought you in from the cold with their warmth and their light, and they're willing to wait for the someday you can step into the sun.


End file.
